I'm Just an Innkeeper, Why Are You All Kneeling?

The cool night breeze swept through the quiet streets of Qingshui Town, kicking up small clouds of dust from the massive crater Crimson had just blasted into the cobblestones.

Standing at the edge of the ruined street, Lin Fan pulled his outer robe a little tighter against the chill. He looked at the newly ascended Saint, waiting for the story.

Crimson remained motionless for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was hollow, stripped of its usual intense, blood-soaked edge.

”We were sworn brothers,” Crimson began, his red eyes staring at the dust, seeing a memory from thousands of miles away. ”His name was Jian. We trained together, bled together, and fought back-to-back for eighty years. We were both stuck at our current cultivation bottleneck for a decade, desperately seeking a way to break through to the next realm.”

Lin Fan nodded slowly. ”A promotion bottleneck. I get it. Very stressful.”

”Exactly,” Crimson murmured, missing the corporate phrasing entirely. ”A month ago, we discovered a map leading to the Sunken Asura Ruins in the perilous Southern Wastes. We braved absolute horrors to reach the center. There, deep within a forgotten temple, we found them: two Heavenly Ascending Lotus Fruits. Enough for both of us to achieve our breakthrough.”

Crimson’s hand drifted to his chest, right over the spot where his foundation had been shattered.

”They were guarded by a peak-level Abyssal Fiend,” Crimson continued, his voice tightening. ”We fought it for three days and three nights. I put my life on the line. I took the brunt of the beast’s attacks, suffering profound internal injuries so that Jian could strike the killing blow. When the beast finally fell, I dropped to my knees, exhausted but victorious. I smiled at him.”

Crimson closed his eyes.

”He smiled back. And then he drove his sword directly through my spine.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Lin Fan leaned against the wooden railing of the porch, his expression sobering. He might view most cultivation drama as overblown nonsense, but betrayal was a universal language.

”He wanted both fruits,” Crimson whispered. ”One to guarantee his breakthrough, and the second to solidify his new foundation. He calculated that my life was worth less than a smooth ascension. I fought back, burning the last drops of my soul to escape his killing array. At death’s door, I crushed an ancient, one-time-use Void-Shifting Talisman I had kept hidden. It tore me through space... and dropped me on your porch.”

Crimson looked up at the teahouse, his gaze tracing the pristine woodwork and the soft light spilling from the windows.

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”When I woke up in your guest bed, Owner, my heart was a black pit of hatred. I thought about revenge every waking second. But I knew my foundation was shattered. Even if I miraculously healed, Jian would have consumed the fruits and advanced to the next realm. He would be untouchable. I fell into despair.”

Crimson slowly reached up and touched the hilt of his black sword.

”But then... you gave me your tea,” Crimson said, his voice trembling with profound reverence. ”You showed me the Golden-Scaled Void Dragons, living as humble pets. You showed me that supreme beings sweep floors and bake bread. Over these past few days, as my foundation healed and rebuilt itself stronger than ever, I realized something.”

Crimson drew his sword. The blade gleamed under the moonlight.

”I have broken through. I have the power to cross the Southern Wastes and take his head. But... I don’t want to.”

Crimson sheathed the sword with a decisive, echoing click.

”Revenge is a chain that binds a man to his past,” Crimson declared, his red eyes completely clear, radiating the serene, unshakeable aura of a true Saint. ”Jian traded his honor, his brother, and his Dao Heart for two pieces of fruit. He is poor. But I? I have been granted a place in the Owner’s supreme sanctuary. Pursuing him would be an insult to the new life you have given me. My path is no longer bloodshed for the sake of pride. My Dao... is to stand by your side and protect this teahouse until the end of time.”

Crimson dropped to one knee again, bowing his head in ultimate submission to his new fate.

Lin Fan stood on the porch, taking it all in.

A tale of epic betrayal. A shattered brotherhood. A fight against an abyssal monster for legendary treasures, culminating in a dramatic, life-altering epiphany of peace.

Lin Fan scratched the back of his neck.

”So, let me get this straight,” Lin Fan said slowly. ”Your best friend stabbed you in the back... over some fruit.”

Crimson blinked, looking up. ”Heavenly Ascending Lotus Fruits, Owner. They contain the condensed laws of—”

”It’s fruit, Crimson,” Lin Fan interrupted softly. ”He threw away eighty years of friendship over a snack.”

Crimson opened his mouth to explain the supreme rarity of the spiritual herbs, but stopped. Framed that way, it did sound incredibly stupid.

”Bad friends are like bad customers,” Lin Fan said, walking down the steps and clapping a hand onto Crimson’s shoulder. To Crimson, the touch felt heavier than a mountain, anchoring him to reality. ”They cause a mess, they refuse to pay their share, and they leave you to clean up the damages. You don’t chase after bad customers, Crimson. You just ban them from the shop and move on with your life.”

Crimson stared at Lin Fan. The absolute, casual dismissal of his grand tragedy hit him like a physical blow. It wasn’t an epic saga of betrayal to the Owner. It was just a poor business transaction.

Supreme wisdom, Crimson thought, his Dao Heart steadying completely. The Owner views the greed of cultivators as nothing more than the petty squabbles of unruly patrons. To him, all worldly conflicts are just bad manners.

”You are right, Owner,” Crimson said, a genuine, small smile touching his lips for the first time in a century. ”Consider him permanently banned.”

”Good,” Lin Fan nodded, turning back toward the teahouse. ”Now, considering you are officially over your traumatic past, I expect you to be in top working condition.”

”I am at your absolute disposal.”

”Excellent,” Lin Fan pointed at the massive crater in the street. ”Because the magistrate’s street inspector comes by at dawn. You have four hours to fix the pavement. When you’re done, come into the kitchen. Sect Master Lu left some leftover bread, and I’m brewing a fresh pot of chamomile.”

Crimson looked at the thirty-foot crater of pulverized stone. He looked at the warm light of the teahouse.

”Yes, Owner,” Crimson said, rolling up his sleeves, his heart lighter than it had been in eighty years.